“It’s a rare good thing she took us for a clumsy merchantman,” commented Ethan to Captain Jones, as they stood together upon the deck. “She could have raked us from stem to stern as we lay there, and we could not have brought a single gun to bear on her.”
“Fate seems to fight against us,” laughed Captain Jones. “Now for Whitehaven once more, and let us hope for a favorable wind.”
They reached that port once more about eight in the evening upon the twenty-second of the month; but the boats were not called away until after midnight.
There were two of these, and were manned by crews of heavily-armed volunteers. Ethan and Longsword had volunteered for the captain’s boat.
“I will advance and attack the forts,” said the commander to Lieutenant Wallingford, who was in charge of the other boat. “Your share in the enterprise is to get well in among the shipping and set fire to it.”
These were all the instructions given. Day began to dawn as they reached the outer pier of the harbor.
“Take the north side,” directed Captain Jones, “and pull hard.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered the third officer; his boat drew away from the other and made into the harbor.
“There are the forts upon the south side, are they not?” asked Ethan.
“Yes,” said John Paul Jones, “and they are likely to be slimly manned. I know the custom here, you see.”